Anything But Mine
by WordsObsessed
Summary: "You're my best friend, you know. I can talk to you about anything, and you always make me better." But he couldn't get her to talk to him that night, when he found her dead on the nursery floor. He couldn't make her heart better, couldn't make her better then. And he'd roared with pain and anguish that she was dead in his arms, his oldest friend beside her.


**This was inspired by Kip Moore's "Crazy One Last Time" - a beautiful, beautiful song :) **

Since they'd met on the first day of first year, he'd been in love with Lily Evans. Head over heels, he'd have done anything for that vivacious little girl – and as she grew up, and grew beautiful, he'd have died to keep her breathing.

Merlin knows he'd tried to.

Throughout their childhood, James' outspoken adoration for her had kept him silent; but every time the corners of her mouth had twitched at one of his jokes, or she'd giggled at one of his pranks, his heart had leapt out of his chest in joy. Hatred of James' egotism had kept her eyes blazing at him, but for him, for him those green eyes softened.

He couldn't help it. He'd never seen her as anything but his.

They had… they had moments. Flashes. Sparkles of love and compassion and friendship that grew stronger as they got older, and which were unique to them. He knew, because she'd told him, that she never spoke to anyone as she did to him – they spoke of classes, of quidditch, of their friends, of their families. They spoke of things that made them laugh and things that made them weep. By the end of Seventh Year he reckoned he knew her better than anyone did, James included.

He'd wept the day she kissed him.

It seemed that age had turned her passionate hatred to passionate love; and as Lily grew to love James, he'd tried to hate him… but couldn't. They were best friends, brothers, and she was all he'd ever truly wanted. He couldn't begrudge him her, it wasn't fair – but that day would forever tinge his heart with bitterness. Bitterness that he wasn't loveable. Bitterness that he wasn't wanted. Bitterness that James, the happiest person in the world, now had his one reason to smile.

But he would love her until the day he died.

The last time he saw her, he hadn't let her see him cry. He'd waved goodbye, laughing, and promised to see them, and the child with her eyes that he loved as if he were his own son, as soon as he could. But when they'd vanished from sight he'd fallen to his knees and howled with pain, crushed by the emotion that had abruptly hit him.

A feeling of foreboding that he never shook until she died.

A feeling that became replaced by the only one that was worse – of absolute grief.

He'd treasured the last letter she'd sent him, thanking him for Harry's birthday present, reading and re-reading it until he knew every word, and staring at that photo of her and her family until he could draw it from memory. The irony wasn't lost on him that he'd wanted to hold her forever, and he could – but only in the form of ink and paper.

He'd always seen her as his, but she hadn't seen herself as his.

And that, ultimately, was the reason for his sorrow. Lily Evans needed a passionate love for her passionate heart – and she was too fond of him to ever feel a burning love consume her for him. It was only James who could ever raise the passions in her that she deserved.

Yet he'd treasure the words she once said to him.

"You're my best friend, you know. I can talk to you about anything, and you always make me better."  
But he couldn't get her to talk to him that night, when he found her dead on the nursery floor. He couldn't make her heart better, couldn't make her better then. And he'd roared with pain and anguish that she was dead in his arms, his oldest friend beside her, and he would never be able to make either of them laugh again. Their son joined in with his screams and the house that had once been so full of love and sunshine turned black and grieving.

Part of him died with Lily that day.

By the time he had a reason to smile, he'd nearly forgotten how – and it was only by looking at her eyes, in the childhood face of James, that it came back to him. He'd always seen Lily as his, but her love had never been his to own. Her son though, her son… Harry was the best of Lily and James combined, and by being his godfather, he regained a degree of the joy of his youth. Harry made him the happiest he'd been since last making Lily laugh – and so when it occurred to him to allow his visits to Hogsmede, perhaps giving him a degree of the happiness that he'd given him, it also happened that it meant he could write the words he felt he'd been waiting a lifetime to. Words that gave him the ownership of somebody who could love him, and words that conveyed his recognition and return of that love.

Words that meant he was able to love once again.

_I, Sirius Black, Harry Potter's godfather…_

**A/N: I hope you liked – I'd love to hear if you did 3**


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